


Not Okay

by Soapbubblesoul



Series: Uncut Ties - Behind the Curtains [3]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon, Canon Compliant, Headcanon, Long-Distance Relationship, Longing, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Frustration, Smut, accidental confessions, porn with a tiny bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11976207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soapbubblesoul/pseuds/Soapbubblesoul
Summary: Yifan doesn’t exactly take well to being physically apart from Yixing when the younger dances provocatively on stage, so he chooses to share the predicament it puts him in.





	Not Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Crosspost; unedited; originally written 2015  
> Original A/N: Chronologically set before The "Bad Boy Touch", more specifically during the Exoluxion concerts in Seoul, so “the blond” actually refers to Yixing during this. Also all blame for this goes to Yixing for doing the things he did in Exoluxion.

 

Yixing is hot. He is always hot after performing, but a concert is a whole new level. It is to be expected that he’s hot. He dances with everything he’s got, as if it’s his last time dancing, and his muscles naturally warm up from the movement.

Additionally to that there is the adrenaline rushing through his veins, a constant dose that starts well before going on stage and only slowly starts to wear off afterwards.

The blood is pumping through his veins, sweat running down his face—his whole body, really—even now that he’s standing in the dressing room.

There are a million emotions coursing through his system, the same there always are. When he was still a child he thought this might change, he might get used to it. But he doesn’t.

It has gotten better in terms of nervousness onstage – the stage is his second home by now. He feels confident onstage, it’s his world and he can get out of his own head while he’s out there.

But the lurch of his stomach, the adrenaline rush, the mixed emotions flooding him afterwards are still the same. The disbelief that he really is allowed to perform, the gratefulness, unbelievable gratefulness that people are coming to see them—not him, not just him, why _him_ , but them, _of course_ them, and Yixing is part of them, caught by association.

There is exhaustion, elatedness, and a sense of surrealness. It’s a high he hasn’t yet come down from when he rummages through his bag, in search for his phone. He turns it back on, the bustling busyness of after-concert activities around him a backdrop he's well used to.

His phone takes a moment to boot, and it feels like a breather, a short pause in hours that were filled with hectic.

He bows to a few staff members that pass, and when his attention turns back to his phone, the device’s screen is greeting him. He notices a red 38 at his WeChat app, indicating new, unread messages.

There is a short debate whether he should open them immediately or wait till later, but his curiosity wins out.

When he sees the messages are from Yifan, he scrunches his eyebrows together. The other knows of the concert, and that Yixing won’t be able to answer, so why would he write so many messages?

The last one reads “What are you doing to me?” and after turning so that the wall is at his back, shielding his phone from curious eyes, he opens their chat, hoping to be inconspicuous. It’s a bit unnecessary to try and act casual, because in the bustling of people around him, no one is paying real attention to him either way.

The first messages Yixing scrolls through are harmless, Yifan complaining about how hungry he is and musing what to have for dinner, followed by well-wishes for the concert. It’s only afterwards, a while after the concert has already started, that the message turn… not so innocent.

_I’ve seen pictures_

_and fancams_

_Uuurgh, these dance moves are really something else._

_Did you just…_

_These movements…_

_How is the song called? "It's okay"?*_

_It makes me feel decidedly not okay_

_Don’t tell me that motion doesn’t remind you of something else_

It’s at that point that Yixing realizes his clothes feel even warmer, and the room is somehow even stuffier. A part of his brain, the sensible one that’s aware of his surroundings, tells him to stop reading right there, but he can’t help scrolling further down.

_The way you wiggle your ass back_

_Don’t tell me you’re not imagining my cock inside you_

_Moving your hips to look for that spot that makes your back arch_

Yixing feels his cock twitch, his pants getting tighter by the minute, and he barely manages to catch the surprised moan at the words, and the image.

He knows that he pretty much only has two options, and in that moment he’s too weak-willed to put the phone away. So he grabs his casual clothes, hoping people will assume he’s just off to change, and rushes two floors down. There are considerably less people milling around there, and the bathroom is as empty as he hoped for.

He hurries into a stall, and locks the door behind him, pulling his phone back out. His time is severely limited before someone will notice his absence, so he instantly gets back to where he was.

_I taught you that movement_

_I held your hips in a tight grip, guiding you on my cock_

_You owe all these movements to me_

His soft moan resounds from the tiled walls as his unoccupied hand cups his growing arousal through his pants. He never considered himself one for sexting, but in spite of that he keeps reading eagerly as he massages the outline of his growing erection.

_Urrrrgh, Yixing_

_How dare you lift your shirt like this_

_To the public_

_Oh if I were there right now…_

_I would punish you for it_

_Though if I were there, you wouldn’t have raised your shirt, because your whole upper body would have been covered in hickeys._

_You wouldn’t have wanted to explain them_

Yixing’s hand moves to stroke along his stomach, before he undoes his zipper. A surge of relief spiked with arousal rushes through his body when he finally slips his hand inside his pants.

When his fingers tighten around his cock a gasp escapes him, and he throws his head back slightly at the pleasure the touch entails.

_Yixing, you are responsible for this_

_What do you intend to do about it?_

There is a picture, and as soon as Yixing opens it he knows what “this” is referring to. His screen shows Yifan’s pants, visibly tented. Another moan leaves Yixing’s lips as he tightens his grip. The thought of Yifan’s cock, straining against the taller’s tight leather pants because of _Yixing_ makes him move his hand a bit faster.

_Now I have this problem_

_A problem I have to take care of_

_Honestly_

_I want to fuck you so bad_

_You look as if you need to be fucked_

_I want you to dance like that, for me, just for me_

_On my lap_

_And then we can further work on the gyrating of your hips_

_Yixing I’m so damn hard right now_

_What are you doing to me?_

It is the last message, and Yixing almost whines at the loss, Yifan’s voice murmuring dirty words inside his head dimming down to a distant whisper.

He is about to jerk off while rereading the messages, and indulging in the mental images, when the timestamp of barely twenty minutes ago catches his eye.

It is risky. As deserted as this floor seems, he still is in a public bathroom and anyone could possibly walk in on him. That doesn’t stop him from typing out a quick “can you talk?” however.

Just so Yifan will understand the urgency of the situation he decides to snap a picture of his own erection straining against his pants. For good measure.

As he waits for the reply, he rummages through the casual clothes he brought, in the hopes of finding his headphones. It is close to a miracle that he turns out to be where tucked into the pants pockets, because his headphones are a continuously wandering good, appearing at the most unlikely places at the most unfortunate times.

Only seconds after he has plucked them in and sat down on the closed toilet lid, his phone rings, and Yixing is glad he just managed to get both his hands free in time.

“You’re the worst.” He says by means of greeting as he accepts the call.

“You’re one to talk.” Yifan replies, his voice sounding slightly distorted over the line, but also strangely breathless. It seems as if Yixing’s little picture had the desired effect. “Dancing like that and then sending me such pictures.”

“It’s only fair since you sent me these texts. And _you_ started the picture thing.” The younger complains, but at the same time he’s pushing his pants down far enough to be able to free his cock.

“The only fair thing would be if I could be there with you right now to properly fuck you into the mattress the way you obviously need it.”

The words are a lot more explicit than Yixing is prepared for—though in all honesty, the texts should have been a giveaway—and he moans lowly as his hand slowly strokes up and down his cock.

“Yes.” He hisses, and it is a sound of approval at his own touch as much as an agreement to Yifan’s statement. “You’re right, it's really not fair that you're not able to do that.”

“Where are you right now?” Yifan questions, and it reminds Yixing of his surroundings.

“At the venue, in a bathroom. The other’s must assume I’m changing, so we better hurry or they’ll get suspicious.” Yixing tones his voice down to a whisper, because the tiled walls of the restroom make every sound echo twice as loud.

“Hmmm, such a needy boy, can’t control his urges until he’s home. Instead he has to jerk off in public.” Yifan purrs, but Yixing catches the slight hitching of his breath, indicating the taller's not doing any better.

The sultry tone of his voice has Yixing moan again as he applies more pressure to his cock, eyes closed, tilting his head back until it hits the wall.

“So what, I miss you. I miss your hands on me, your mouth…” He lets his voice trail of.

“Do you miss my cock?”

“Hmm, I do.” Yixing breathes out, running his thumb over the head, catching the pre-cum there.

This time it’s Yifan’s turn to moan, but the sound reverberates through the line, unrestrained. Yixing reasons the taller isn’t anywhere in public with how unashamedly vocal he's being. “My cock also misses you. And I miss yours.”

“If you were here, what would you do?” Yixing asks, his unoccupied hand moving to ghost over his chest, rubbing lightly over his nipples.

Yifan hums as if he’s thinking, and just when the smaller is about to prompt him again, or remind him that they need to hurry, he starts talking. “If I were there, I would make sure to map out your abs. First running my fingertips over them, light enough to make you shiver and arch into my touch.” The elders voice has toned down to a whisper, and Yixing can basically feel the other’s hot breath gusting against his ear. His own hand moves to follow the motions Yifan describes, imagining it are the taller’s fingers on his skin instead of his own.

“Then I would start to lick along the outline of your abs, every dip between the muscles, making them quiver, and I’d suck bruises all over them, mark them, remind you of who this sight belongs to.” Yifan sounds increasingly husky, his breathing getting more erratic by the minute.

Yixing finds he can relate to that, as he tries his hardest to bite back his moans, the success being rather debatable, but he still manages to collect enough air to breathe out a response. “I would hook my ankles around your legs to drag you down, so I could buck my hips and bring our erections together.”

The younger hears the sharp intake of breath through the crackling static of the line, followed by a long moan, and if his cock hadn’t been aching for relief so much, he might have taken a moment to feel self-satisfied. Instead he just feels desperate, eyes still screwed tightly shut. This way it’s easier to forget about the electronic buzzing of Yifan’s voice, and the fact that his own hands aren’t Yifan’s. “And I would fist one hand in your hair, tight enough for you to moan.” he continues in a hushed voice

“Damn Yixing.” The elder grunts, and by now he's panting heavily, taking a few moments to collect himself before picking up where he left off. “After making sure I’ve littered your chest with hickeys, I’d move lower, until I could lick along your cock. But only to distract you from my fingers entering you, to stretch you wide and good.”

Yixing’s hips stutter forward on their own accord into the ring his fingers are forming, and a moan that’s louder than the previous ones escapes him before he can muffle the sound. He wishes he had lube at hand, so that he could finger himself, but he's not yet desperate enough to attempt that with just his saliva as lubrication. He'd only do that if he had the real chance of getting Yifan's cock inside him, because there are a lot of things he'd give for that right now. But he can't have it, so instead he recalls Yifan's words.

“Yes, and I’d take your long fingers eagerly, fucking back against them to make you know what it’s like when you replace them with your cock.” Yixing’s throat feels raw from the whispering and harsh breathing, but he doesn’t care. All that he cares about is Yifan’s voice in his ears.

“Oh, so eager to be fucked, I knew it. But I wouldn’t just fuck you. I would sit up, and turn you around, so that I could look right at your firm ass, grab it, knead it, before pulling your back against my chest and letting you lower yourself on my cock.”

The pace of his hand picks up as pleasure and heat starts to drive any sort of coherent thought away. He needs this, he needs _Yifan,_ but for now he has to make do with the mental picture, and he emerges himself completely in the imagination.

“Yes, I’d ride you good.” He pants, moving the hand around his cock frantically up and down, the other one rolling the bud of his nipple between his finger tips, breath hitching at the sensation.

“I know you would, baby, I know you would. I’ve seen the movement of your hips, you can’t wait to ride me, control the way my cock slides in and out of your ass, rubs against that spot that has you arch your back away from my body, right into my hands.”

A helpless whine draws from Yixing’s mouth at the image, and he immediately slaps his hand against his mouth, trying to muffle the treacherous noises.

“And I would hold your arms at your sides, so that you wouldn’t have any chance to hide your moans and your keens when I thrust up into you, or when you let your hips roll down on my cock.” The elder hisses, almost like a threat, but Yixing’s cock just twitches in reaction. Yifan’s arms around his torso, restricting his movement while at the same time guiding him…

He wants to retort, to answer anything, but all that leaves his mouth are harsh pants interspersed with moans of Yifan’s name, the pace of his hand frantic.

“And I- I would muffle my moans in your neck, I would-I-“ Yifan seems too out of breath to properly form sentences anymore at hearing Yixing’s state. Yixing is sure that the elder is as close to his climax as Yixing is.

So the smaller alternates between rubbing the shaft of his cock and teasing its head, panting Yifan’s name in a way that he knows drives the other crazy. “Your cock, Yifan.” He manages to bite out in between, and he doesn’t even need to elaborate, to describe what he would do to it, what it makes him feel to have Yifan respond with a knowing moan.

His breathing resounding harshly from the tiles, mixed with his moans, Yixing feels the knot in his stomach winding tighter. “Yi-Yifan, I’m-“ He starts, a habit to inform Yifan, but he doesn’t even get through the statement before he is cumming, shooting his semen over his hand and stomach. Something that sounds like a sob rips from his lips, before turning into a high-pitched, drawn out moan.

He strokes himself through the high, Yifan’s heavy breathing a constant background noise. Just as he feels his cock soften again, a flaccid weight in his hand, he hears Yifan’s breath hitch as the elder whines out Yixing’s name.

The sound alone has Yixing release another soft moan of approval as he listens to Yifan moan through his climax.

“That was…” the blond eventually breaks through the noise of their labored breaths. “That was…” But he doesn’t know how to complete the sentence.

Nonetheless Yifan hums in agreement, as if he knows perfectly what Yixing is trying to express, and the younger can perfectly picture the Yifan’s disheveled hair, his chest heaving while he tries to catch his breath.

“I would love to talk to you some more, but I really need to get back.” Yixing whispers, as if it would matter to keep silent, now, after he has already moaned loud enough that it was most likely audible even outside of the bathroom.

His tone is longing, but this is what they are now. Quick phone calls, hushed voices and hidden messages, secret meetings and perhaps an occasional session of phone sex, until further notice.

“I know.” Yifan’s voice is soft, so soft, the way it always is after sex, when he looks at Yixing with an expression that makes the smaller's heart swell, that is almost too much for Yixing to take. Right now he wishes he could experience that expression first hand though.

Shaking his head, Yixing forces himself to clear his mind, to push these sorrowful thoughts aside. Today is a day to be happy, to be ecstatic, and he got to have a bit of an intimate time with Yifan on top of completing a concert. _Yes, these are reasons to be happy._ he tells himself.

“I’ll message you when I’m home, and if you’re still awake we can talk some more.” The younger suggests, already cleaning his cum off with toilet paper, getting ready to change into the clothes he brought with him.

“ _Talk some more_ , huh? 'Talk'? That’s what you call what we’ve been doing just now?” Yifan questions teasingly, and the tone of his voice somehow draws a fond smile to Yixing’s features.

“Well, we _did_ talk.”

Yifan chuckles lowly in return, and Yixing hears the fond shake of his head in the sound.

“If you say so. I think I would call it a hot session of phone sex. And for you a hot session of phone sex in public.”

Yixing feels his cheeks flush as the truth of Yifan’s words sinks in, and for once that night he's glad the elder can’t see him. “Yifan!” he hisses in reproach, because he really can’t be blushing right now, not when he has to head back to the others. “I really have to go now.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Yifan relents, his voice losing its teasing bite. “Don’t forget to call me later. Love you.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Yixing answers absentmindedly, already focused on pulling his sweatpants on. “Talk to you later, love you too.”

Yixing is fully dressed, second-checking whether he is presentable in a mirror when he startles, Yifan's parting words finally catching up to him. Yifan told him that he loves him, and Yixing replied with the same, simply by habit.

They hadn’t talked about anything like that again since getting back into contact. Usually their calls would end with “I miss you.”, which basically is the equivalent of them expressing their feelings already, but they hadn’t spoken of love yet.

In that situation however it was just so natural that the words simply slipped out. Perhaps that’s the way it has to be, since Yixing doesn’t feel like taking it back.

As he hurries up the stairs he muses with a smirk on his face that he really should tell Yifan that manager-nim, whom he’s sharing the room with, will be at his family’s place that night, and that the younger finally figured out how to get the web cam of his laptop working again after the latest update.

Then he could properly show Yifan those dance moves he’s been practicing. And perhaps get some more exercise in removing his clothes in a way that drives people crazy. 

**Author's Note:**

> *: "괜찮아" or "gwaenchanha" is a line from the Playboy chorus that was pretty catchy, so some people called Playboy "Gwaenchanha" in these first live recordings, and it can be translated to "It's okay".  
> Original A/N: I am- I- I don't know. *backs away while laughing in embarrassment*


End file.
